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New Club Kids is a window into a unique clubbing subculture that does away with conforming to a set style of fashion, choosing to roll the dice and dress up in all manner that thinks “outside the box”.

This book showcases the gamut of crazy freeform fashion that these fringe clubbers choose to wear to the parties, the motto being “Dress like your life depends on it, or don’t bother”.

The author, Oggy Yordanov has lived in London’s Soho district since 2001, and has immersed himself within the London club scene. He was also a fan and admirer of CCK.

Here’s an extract of an interview with him from the book:

While selecting the photographs for this book, I reviewed thousands of images shot over the past decade. The incredible memories flooded back, all those amazing parties and amazing people that made my years in the great city of London so phenomenal. I want you to share these memories.

At the time I moved to London, in early 2001, the party scene was still dominated by the super-clubs – places like Fabric, Ministry of Sound, Fridge, Heaven and Turnmills – providing a vibrant playground for the young clubber.

There were huge capacity venues with great DJ line-ups that pulled in massive crowds of enegetic party-goers, but one breed of party animal was missing – the club kid.

It was the time of “less is more” and dressing down was the ongoing trend. For a while I believed that the avant garde fashion of the real underground London had disappeared, somehow vanished with the modern transformation of clubland. Thankfully, things were starting to change.

Fashion has always walked hand in hand with music and London has a rich history of dressing-up. Club Kids or dressers, as some would prefer encapsulate the creative London as I know it. Fabul0us, yet trashy beautiful and scary, glamorous or freaky–meet the New Lond0n Club Kids.

Here at CCK, we like to keep an eye on what’s happening on the internet. This includes any blogs that comment on the things we are interested in.

Jimmyjane.com is a great site that specialises in helping people understand and enjoy sex more through toys, candles, massage oils and tutorials.

We spotted an interesting article on their blog that talks about the humble yet very sexy fruit known as the cherry.

Sound interesting? Then read on!

Let them eat pie
by Jimmyjane

Love Potion No. 9 may be not available at the grocery store, but a mouth-watering dessert can easily stand in place of an arousing elixir. Thankfully, your local farmer’s market is ripe with seasonal aphrodisiacs, perfect for baking up a delectable treat that will excite more than just taste buds.

Ruby red, taut and juicy, the early summer harvest is all about cherries, a fruit with a rich history of feminine (and simply sexual) allusion. From 80’s rock to centuries of slang, cherries have long conjured images of anatomy and the possibilities of the forbidden.

As it turns out, there may be science behind the cherry’s ribald reputation. The fruit provides potassium, a requirement for sexual hormone production, as well as an abundance of antioxidants, helping keep skin temptingly beautiful and youthful. Their rich red hue is even said to stimulate pheromone production. (A theory perhaps best tested by rubbing the fruit over lips, nipples and naughtybits.)

Think sexy while doing your shopping, and pick up a pint of the irreverent gems – with a little imagination, you’ll find a multitude of ways to enjoy them. Snack on them while reading a dirty novel or while watching porn, rolling the smooth fruit around on your tongue. Stash a handful in the freezer, then use them as a delicious alternative to ice during temperature play.

Bite into the cherry and drip the red juices over desirable areas, leaving your partner to lick the sugary trail. Anything you eat with your fingers can become a tease; take turns feeding each other and dangling the fruit above an open mouth before dropping it in. Dip cherries in chocolate for an aphrodisiac double-dose.

If you really want to impress your lover, tie on the ol’ apron (preferably over little else) and whip up a warm, sticky cherry pie. Ask your partner for help massaging the crust, taste-testing the filling or whipping the cream – so to speak. Amuse yourselves while you wait for the pie to emerge from the oven, and when the timer dings, enjoy your hot reward right there in the kitchen.

Here at CCK we want to share something special with our customers. We will be taking extracts from our favourite books, and posting them here on the blog. That way you can get a taste of the kind of stuff we offer, and can decide for yourself whether you like it or not. Hopefully you’ll like them so much, you’ll want to buy the book for yourself!

Our first extract comes from the Best Women’s Erotica 2008. The story is written by Jacqueline Applebee, a name well known to us as she was a regular at CCK when it was still open. She would come in on a regular basis to read out her stories for fellow customers to enjoy and give feedback on.

And so without further ado, read on!

PENALTY FARE
Jacqueline Applebee

It was supposed to be my punishment. I’m sure the train guard thought it was only right and just that I should introduce my lips to his hard-on, as penalty for traveling on the railway without a valid ticket. He had given me a simple choice; I was either to pay a week’s wages as a fine, or I was to give him a blowjob the next time we met.

I guessed he didn’t know how little I earn.

That’s why I found myself on the 8:30 service from London Paddington to Bristol Temple Meads the next Friday morning. I waited quietly in my seat by the aisle as the train pulled out of the station in a series of long slow jerks. At first I wanted to find him, to try to keep control of the situation, but I couldn’t move; I was far too nervous. As the onboard speakers crackled to life, I wondered if it was his smooth voice that I heard, welcoming everyone to the train, telling us all to observe the safety notices and that no smoking was allowed.

Ten agonizingly long minutes passed before I saw him at the other end of the narrow swaying carriage, checking tickets, collecting money and pointing the way to the buffet car in an efficient manner. Dressed as he was in his dark uniform, the crisp pressed trousers, jacket and tie made him look severe, almost intimidating. He seemed taller, more solid than before and for a split second, I was hesitant that I could really do this. Then I started thinking that he wouldn’t even remember our sordid agreement; he probably wouldn’t remember me.

And as if he had heard my thoughts, he looked ahead and he saw me; the only black woman on the train by my estimate. I stood out from the pinstripe suits around me and amongst all the stiff uniforms of gray and white, I was like a big black target, dressed in my colorful West African outfit, chunky silver jewelry and a headwrap topping it all off. If I couldn’t move before, I was frozen to the spot now.

Once our eyes met, he zeroed in on me, marching quickly through the carriage and ignoring the other passengers who held out their tickets for him to check. He slung his portable ticket machine over his shoulder as he reached my seat and he yanked me out of my chair, without even breaking his stride.

His big firm hand clamped down as a solid weight upon my shoulder and I half stumbled ahead of him. Other passengers looked at me with sympathy; they were probably thinking that I was going to be thrown bodily off the train for breaking the rules and I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to look at anyone we passed. I was directed in hurried silence to the front of the train, to the first class carriage where no one sat.

As we reached the private toilets there, I saw a sign on the door that almost made me smile. OUT OF ORDER was taped up in big red letters. I suppose that what we were about to do could be considered out of order, but I was just too horny to dwell on it.

You see, this was my choice, my dream; to be so naughty that I simply had to be punished. It had taken three trips to get into trouble and believe me when I say I had tried. But no one checked the tickets on the first journey to Oxford, the train guard on the second trip to Bath Spa took pity on me and said he’d overlook it. It was only on the third journey that I got lucky at last; this guard actually took me aside, leaned over me and told me that there was more than one way to pay for my crime. He had stared at my chest the whole time, with twinkling blue eyes lapping up the sight of me as if I were completely edible, and then he said he’d always wanted to try out a black girl.

I almost came on the spot.

Don’t get me wrong; I think of myself as being reasonably smart. I know I’m not supposed to like things like this, but I do. I like them an awful lot. And just the thought of what was about to happen made me feel so damn hot! Because even though I can look as exotic as you like, I’ve never ever felt it.

Really, not ever.

I was born and brought up in East London, talk with a Cockney accent when I get excited and the closest I’ve got to the tropics is buying a tin of pineapple chunks in my local supermarket. So when my need to be bad gets tangled up with my need to feel like a sultry dusky maiden…well it’s not too hard to work out why I jumped at his yummy proposal. He might have some island beauty stereotype floating around his head and tugging at his groin, but I have my stereotypes too and they make me hunger for firm pink skin, blue veins snaking around hard muscles and hair that is soft and straight.

Big strong men who look like Viking warriors make me gaga with desire. Getting them to notice me is something that I’ve worked long and hard at.

Back on the train, I inhaled deeply as the guard reached around me. I could feel his hot breath against the back of my neck, making me shiver with anticipation. His scent caught my nose; his cologne was crisp, masculine and underlined his attributes.

He used a little funny shaped key to open the door to the restroom and then ushered me inside with a firm push. I glanced around nervously; the room was not large and neither of us was small. I looked back at him with a hint of uncertainty; he was a big handsome man and my layers of bright African cloth hid my voluptuous curves. I didn’t know if we were going to fit, but he smiled at me-a lazy crooked grin that let me know that he’d done this before—-and then he promptly squeezed in behind me.

As the door shut, I caught a glimpse of the bright green countryside as it blurred past the window outside; I saw the freedom of open spaces that I didn’t want. I’d much rather be locked up thank you very much.

We finally made it in, although we had to dance in a tight awkward shuffle to get the door fully closed. For a moment, we both stood there in the confined space, looking at each other. Then his hands moved to his thick belt and he quickly undid the silver buckle. I took it as a cue to sink to my knees and lifted the hem of my bright yellow dress as I stooped down.

The stale damp smell of the toilet was worse down at this level but I tried not to notice. I heard the slow metallic slide of his zipper and I forgot everything else as the sound hypnotized me. His dark uniform trousers dropped to the floor, pooling around thick strong-looking calves, with a mass of fine blond hairs decorating his ivory skin. He was more than ready for me and as I caught my first sight of his cock, it seemed as if there was even less space in the room than before. His large thick crimson dick radiated heat that I could already feel against my lips. It bobbed with the trundle of the train, standing in front of my face like it was a third person in the room.

I pressed my warm face to his burning cock, rubbed my cheeks, my lips over the smooth surface until I felt a hand on my head, stilling me. I heard his low voice; the first thing he’d said to me.

“Train’s due at Reading station in five minutes.”

I got the hint-make it quick, no fancy stuff. I could do that.

I looked back up at his cock and opened wide. I conjured up the taste of salt and placed my lips against a bead of his juice leaking from the tip. He shivered against me and I smiled as I descended on him further. I sucked steadily and slowly on his length and he gasped, almost stepping away from the intensity.

The weight of his hefty cock made my tongue bend beneath it. He felt immense inside me but I wanted it all. I licked the head with short urgent laps and the train began to shudder with me’, keeping pace with my tongue. I closed my eyes, breathed out and swallowed him deeper in slow wet gulps just as we entered a tunnel. The only reason I knew this, was be- cause my ears popped and when I swallowed again from instinct to relieve the pressure, he made a strangled noise. I felt his strong wide hands fisting the fabric of my headscarf and he pulled me forward even more.

My gag reflex is something that I have learned to live with; I’ve practiced on bananas and jumbo hotdogs, pushing them against the back of my throat, half swallowing them and then pulling out before I choked. So when I relaxed my jaw muscles and drew every last inch of him into me, I was as prepared as I could be. I sensed his surprise at this and he surged in- side, growing impossibly harder against the roof of my mouth, stretching me to the limit.

I cupped his heavy hot balls and he went up on tiptoes, straining in the swaying room. Both of his hands were now buried in the cloth that covered my head and they were no longer guiding me, but rather he was using me to steady him- self. I was half glad that he lost control so quickly, half proud of my abilities.

My slow in-and-out motions made him grunt like a bull, my nibbles made him pant like a horse and quick twists of my swollen lips made him gurgle low in his throat. He was making so many appreciative noises and seemed to be enjoying the experience so much that it was only when we felt the pull of the brakes that he suddenly stiffened against me, swore out loud and practically popped himself out of my hungry mouth.

I was amazed at the speed with which he moved, he was tucked in and dressed almost before I could pull off the blueberry condom that I had sneaked on with my first kiss to his cock.

He disappeared out the door and within moments I could – hear his breathless voice announcing the next station, warning passengers to please mind the gap between the train and the platform and reminding them that we were due in Bristol at ten o’clock.

Even though the train was stationary, I still felt the strange swoon wash over me; the feeling that I was still moving, still roaring through the countryside on this pleasure train. I felt my knees start to ache, but I wasn’t about to move from my position. I wrapped the purple condom in a tissue and fished just under the edge of my headwrap for a strawberry flavored one instead. That just left the mint and vanilla ones scratching at my scalp, reminding me of the possibilities.

The jerk of the train as it got going once more sent a sudden welcoming jolt to my clit. The strong series of motions as the locomotive gathered speed threatened to pull my orgasm from me, from my overexcited body and right down to the thundering wheels below.

Within seconds he came back into the room, looking at me with surprise, as if he’d thought I wasn’t going to be here when he returned, but I wasn’t done with him yet.

“Drop ’em,” I said cheekily and he laughed and lowered his trousers once more.

This time I was fully relaxed and eager to have him in my mouth again. My previous actions had made me even more of a slut than before and I was very pleased at my progress. I was determined to suck this man dry, to have my fun.

He seemed more desperately horny than earlier and after a few enthusiastic kisses, his cock grew back to its rock-hard status, gliding into my mouth smoothly and deeply.

The guard became more vocal as he reached his peak, grunting out garbled words and curses as he thrust into me, using my mouth for his sweet sordid pleasure. I was torn between reaching up to pull him down by his dangling tie and staying where I was, to get off on the rumbling between my legs.

I thought briefly about how my brain got addled when I was horny but it was worth it, as being bad felt so much better than I could have ever imagined. Every part of me tingled and vibrated with the train and I gripped the base of his cock and felt him almost topple over.

My decision was made and I lowered myself down further until my pussy was directly atop the shaking floor. I came quickly with a muffled shout around the cock in my mouth, the orgasm rattling my body with a pounding, roaring sensation that thundered through my bones, like the speeding train I rode in.

The guard’s ticket machine was still strapped to his back and it made a noise as loud as both of our cries as he jerked against the door, his jagged movements accidentally pressing the buttons on the device while he rocked into me. I sucked hard, drawing out his come in full strong motions and he groaned long and loud, flicking his hips in sharp shudders. I felt the condom swell within my mouth, tasted strawberry milkshake and withdrew after a sweet blissful moment.

I banged the back of my head against the washbasin as I clambered up stiffly; my knees were killing me and I was damp in places even I was surprised at. He sighed out loud and looked completely spent, but was quick enough to see me put the second condom in some tissue. He reached down and gripped the head of his cock, swiped a drop of come that had leaked out and held it up to me as if to dare me to lick it from his thick fingers, but I had other plans. I wanted a mark from this event, apart from the bruise to the back of my head. I wanted a reminder that it hadn’t all been my sex-crazed imagination, so I offered my hands to him and he knew what to do; he smeared a white dribble of his come across my wrists, dabbed a drop behind each ear and stroked the last of it into the cleavage of my breasts.

We both smiled in a conspiratorial way as he adorned me; we both knew that I would wear him like perfume all day, would carry a part of him back home to the East End of London.

“That was cracking,” he exclaimed in a lazy satisfied voice.

“God I could get into so much trouble for this, could get myself fired…” he paused and then winked at me, smiling broadly. “But you’re worth it sweetheart!”

He turned to the door and was about to leave when suddenly a long beep rang out. A concertina strand of tickets ejected themselves from his machine; four singles going all the way to the end of the line.

Maybe we’ll do that next time.

So what do you think? Did it light a fire within your loins? Have you ever fantasied about sex on a train? (or done it in real life?) We want to know! We want your feedback!

While you’re at it, if you liked what you read feel free to pick up a copy of Best Women’s Erotica 2008 on our webshop:

There has never been a better time to be a coffee lover. As experts in all things coffee, we at CCK have noticed a revolution in the number of new types of beans and processes that have become available on the market.

From Espresso, French Press and Percolator, Drip and Vacuum Press, single origins like Ethiopian and Columbian, there is a whole world of choice for drinkers to immerse themselves in.

As a intro to our knowledge of all things coffee, here’s an article from CCKs own Alana, who describes our French Press coffee processes:

We serve our coffee in the french press, which is fast becoming the world’s most popular coffee-making method. It is also one of the most challenging and unforgiving ones.

Professional cuppers use the French press to brew coffee samples they’re going to judge. With no milk, additives or syrups to disguise any potential flaws, only the very best beans are good enough, So that’s what we buy.

At CCK, we are devoted to bringing you a truly unique coffee experience. We make sure our equipment is in working order. We heat up the kettle and the right amount of coarsely ground beans.

Just off the boil, we gently pour hot water down the side of the pot and allow the bloom to take shape. The bloom is a sign of freshly roasted coffee. It is the Co2 trapped in the bean during roasting that gives the coffee pot a good head while escaping.

We add more water and gently stir the grinds to let the aromatic oils blend well. We then place the plunger/filter lid on and bring the press to the table for you to enjoy.

The longer you wait before you plunge, the stronger your coffee is going to be. It is best left a couple of minutes before pouring into our sexy large cup(s).

Some useful tips there, but there are some who would champion Espresso coffee over French Press. What’s your opinion on the matter? We would love to hear what you think on the subject, so feel free to post your comments to us!

Described as one of the greatest Irish photographic image-makers of the last few decades, Bob Carlos Clarke was well known for his edgy erotic photography.

Having photographed famous celebrities such as Rachel Weisz, Marco Pierre White, Dita Von Teese and Keith Richards, Clarke was well connected within the industry for his unique approach.

Also, Bob used to visit the CCK shop when it was open. He was a keen supporter of CCK, and used to bring in his books and sign them for us to sell.

The exhibition is called “Bob Clarke: Pop Up Exhibition”, and showcases some of Clarke’s work over his roughly 30 year career. The exhibition is taking place at the Little Black Gallery, 202 Westbourne Grove, London W11 2RH, running from the 29th of June until the 31st of August.

When I first moved to London at the start of 2007 I was lucky enough
that I *had* heard of polyamory. I even defined myself as polyamorous,
thanks to a chance encounter with a copy of The Ethical Slut in an
Ottawa bookshop. What I had no idea about was where to find other
people like myself. It seems like poly people were a rare life form
who only existed on the internet or in the USA.

I heard about Polyday thanks to another chance meeting – in CCK. There
for the first time, I met one of the previous Polyday organisers and
got chatting over coffee and cake. I can honestly say it was the
beginning of a new chapter of my life. I discovered that not only were
there other poly people in the UK, but there was a thriving community
(and, as it turns out, a lot of crossover between the poly and kink
communities). Even better, there were events I could go to, to meet
people like myself. I felt like I had finally come home.

I volunteered to help out because I think community is important.
After years of feeling like a fish out of water, the poly community in
london and around the UK provided a much-needed safe space where I
could finally be myself amongst a bunch of awesome people, and since
I’ve been organising the event I’ve had similar feedback from a lot of
other folks. Not to mention some beautiful emails to say thanks for
introducing people to new loved ones. Polyday is notoriously a high
point in the year for new relationships in the poly community as well
– though we emphasise that it is *not* a dating event, being
surrounded by so many lovely non-monogamous folks a few are bound to
hit it off!

There’s always something for everyone, from complete beginners to
seasoned ‘polyamorists’ and activists, from vanilla to kinky, and
whether you’re into men, women or everything in between. Plus there
will be a some fun sessions and evening entertainment thrown in for
good measure. If you’ve heard of polyamory but are unsure how to put it into
practice or where to find out more, polyday is a great place to start.

If you’ve been poly for years and think you have it down, consider
coming to our more advanced sessions and sharing your experience with
other ‘experts’, joining in the ‘poly crafting’ workshop, helping out
with the running of the day, or perhaps even volunteering to run a
workshop – there are still a couple of slots free as I write this.

Whether you’re new to poly or not, this is *your* community event.
Even if you feel like you’ve nothing to learn there is space to chat,
share stories and connect with people you may not have met before, or
haven’t seen since the last Polyday. Come on home.

This year’s Polyday will be on the 27th of August, in central London
at Dragon hall (near Holborn). Doors open at 11:30 a.m. and workshops
start from noon, with nice long breaks between sessions for coffee, cake and
chat, and a dinner break to take advantage of the huge number of
excellent local eateries before evening entertainments until 11pm. Online
booking is already open, and there are more details on the website
(which will continue to be updated as the event gets closer) atwww.polyday.org.uk
________
Maxine.

Photographing the real gay bear in its natural environment, Barry “The Bear” Gollop is a man who knows his subject! New York born, Barry traveled across Europe and gained a love of photography, which he has turned to his advantage in putting a spotlight on the big and burly gay men known as “The Bear”.

Filled to the brim with hairy well built and hunky men in exotic locations, Barry brings a gritty and striking feel to his work that gives a flavour of what makes Bears so appealing!

Check out his work in “The Bear: Essentials”, available to buy from our webshop. Take a walk on the wild side!

There has always been an eternal desire to digitise the erotic experience. Be it via words, images or video, the next logical step is a more interactive experience that closes the gap between the content and the user, therefore removing the problem of a reality that fails to live up to our expectations.

From the intricacies of realistic rendering of the physical human form and their environments, to something as specialised as the infamous “Boob jiggle” physics, Pornography has been a driving force for the development of technology.

The Erotic Engine is a new book by Patchen Barss explores the concept of taking sex beyond the real world, and into the virtual world. With the advent of computers there have numerous attempts for bedroom/homebred coders, videogame developers and even the Porn Industry to tap into the “virtual sex” concept.

Other topics in the book go into subjects like Virtual Environments, comparing porn games to porn movies, user immersion, and the value and desire for the product. The writer also got to interview one of the leading porn stars in the world turned successful business woman, Jenna Jameson. She is in the unique position of having a virtual version of herself that has taken over her place now that she no longer performs in front of the camera herself.

Having said she was “done with porn forever” in August 2007, Jenna now has “Virtually Jenna” to fall back on. Virtually Jenna is a software/game that allows the user to play with a computer generated avatar of Jenna within a virtual environment. You can do whatever you want with her and make her wear whatever you want in an almost infinite number of choices and combinations, giving the user the experience they want.

Suffice to say, there’s a lot of interesting topics in this book for those lovers of tech and porn!

The Erotic Engine is now available to buy from Amazon.com (extra shipping costs may be required if buying from outside the US)

We are hoping to get our copy soon, but in the mean time if anyone has read it, could they drop us a comment on what you thought of it? Your feedback is greatly appreciated!

The British cherry is a wonderful thing…and especially when it is fresh. For the last couple of years the foodie folks responsible for focussing our national awareness on a particular product have taken care to remind us that the we should continue to love our cherries and keep them close to our hearts. And mouths.

National Cherry Day this year is on the 16th July. Don’t forget! One other thing…you can catch performances of The Cherry Orchard by Anton C. at the National Theatre this month. See what I did there… Cherry at the National…

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